


Just Monopoly

by thanksforthecrumb



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Humor, Monopoly (Board Game), it's basically crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksforthecrumb/pseuds/thanksforthecrumb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you play the game of Monopoly, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Monopoly

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic takes place in Fraryland, and it was supposed to have happened long before A Frary Merry Christmas. I actually wrote this fic in July for the Frary Writers Network on Tumblr and then never posted it anywhere else. So yeah. Just keep in mind that this whole incident happens way before AFMC.

_Before_

Mary grabbed her coat off the table, moving quickly through the apartment. “Hey, guys, I’ve got to go.” She paused next to Francis, who was methodically stirring a bowl of cereal into milk. She swooped down and kissed his head, ruffling his curls a bit. He grunted. “I’m going to have a late night. Don’t wait up for me.”

Francis grunted again. He lifted a spoonful of sodden cereal to his lips. “Wait,” he said after a pause.

“What?” Mary said impatiently, bouncing on her heels as she looked at the clock.

“You can’t work late tonight.”

“Why not? God, Francis, I told you two days ago that I was going to work late on Friday. You can’t just make plans without telling me.”

Sensing something interesting, Bash popped his head out of the refrigerator where he’d been searching for a bagel. “What?”

Francis directed his attention to Bash. “Mary’s working  _late_  tonight,” he told his brother.

Bash lost his goofy grin instantly. “ _What_?” he said incredulously.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Mary, who was stealthily inching toward the door every time Francis looked away.

Bash darted a horrified look at Francis, who was still sluggishly eating his cereal-mush. “What’s  _wrong_  with that is that it’s  _Monopoly_  night tonight. One does not simply  _skip_   _Monopoly_  night.”

“God, Bash. It’s just Monopoly. I promised my boss I’d work an extra shift.”

Bash’s eyes bugged out of his head. “ _Just_  Monopoly?  _Just Monopoly_? Francis, Francis, help me out here!”

Francis raised his head. “Monopoly night is sacred,” he told Mary. “One does not simply  _diss_  Monopoly night.”

“Okay, so you two can play Monopoly and I can work my shift like I promised,” Mary offered, her tone reasonable. Unbeknownst to her, you really can’t speak reasonably to someone under the influence of Monopoly. There is no  _reason_  in the game.

“No, Mary, you  _have_  to play,” Francis insisted, swallowing a mouthful of soggy Froot Loops.

Bash sat down next to Francis. “Damn, Francis. Where’d you pick this one up?  _Doesn’t want to play Monopoly_. I don’t understand it. How are you guys still dating?”

Francis shrugged. “You think you know a girl…”

Mary shook her head and checked the clock. “Oh my God. I’m so late. I’ve got to go, guys. See you later.” She all but ran out of the apartment, slamming the door.

“Two o’clock!” Francis yelled. “Be home at two!”

“Whatever,” was the muffled reply through the door.

Francis slurped his saturated Froot Loops and Bash retreated to the fridge to sniff out any moldy breads he could eat. “ _Just_  Monopoly,” he muttered, pawing through the fridge. “It’s not  _just_  Monopoly.”

Francis slurped happily, stirring the bowl that now held only milk. Rainbow milk. He loved Froot Loops. He swirled the sugary milk around some more, smiling at the colors. Today was going to be great.

 

_That night/that afternoon because Monopoly takes a hella long time and you have to start early_

Mary came home a few minutes after two to find the apartment empty and quiet. “Francis?” she called. “Bash?” The door swung shut squeakily and Mary laid her coat on the faithful table by the door. “Where are you guys?”

A head of curly blond hair appeared out of Francis’s bedroom door. He grinned at her excitedly. “You’re here.”

“Yeah. I had to trade shifts with Amanda, so this Monopoly thing better be worth.”

Francis furrowed his eyebrows, looking offended. “It’s  _Monopoly_ ,” he said, as if it were some miracle drug.

“Where’s Bash?”

“In his room.”

“Did you go to the shop at all today?”

Francis looked surprised. “No. I needed the whole day to get ready for Monopoly.”

“Okay, what the hell is with Monopoly? Why do you need the whole day to prepare?”

“It’s  _Monopoly_ , Mary.”

Bash came out of his room, rubbing his hands together and grinning somewhat maniacally. “Who’s ready for Monopoly?”

Francis jumped up from the couch. “I’ll get the board.” He pointed to Mary. “Get the snacks. There should be some chips and stuff in the pantry. Bash, you get the drinks.”

“Like I’m just going to  _let_  you get the board,” said Bash. “You’re going to steal some money. Or my game piece. If you take the dog, I swear to God, Francis…”

Francis began to say (in a very loud, definitely not inside-voice volume) that, no,  _of course_  he wasn’t going to take the dog and how could you even think that, Bash? Then they both tried to shove the other over in an attempt to get the board out.

“Guys,” said Mary. “ _Guys_. Guys!  _I’ll_  get the game board.”

The two brothers fell silent. They exchanged a look and burst into laughter. “ _You_ ,” Bash chuffed out, “ _you_  get the game board? Oh my  _God_. Francis, Francis—” he thumped his little brother on the back, laughing so hard his face turned red—“ _Mary_  wants to get the game board.”

Then they laughed again. Mary strode to the tiny closet that was supposed to be used for coats but was apparently used to store the obsessions of broke white boys. “Jesus,” she muttered, tugging the worn box down from the top of the shelf.

The lid of the box was completely covered in Post-it notes with numbers scrawled all over. Scores. And names. Each Post-it documented the victor in the Monopoly death game and the loser, with a triumphant circle gracing the name and score of the winner and a vicious line cutting through the loser’s information.

Mary sighed. Sad. All of it. It was just sad.

Back in the living room, Francis and Bash had set out bags of the promised chips, as well as popcorn and Cheetos. A  large pack of beer that was probably only for Bash to drink was on the floor (he’d charitably provided Hawaiian Punch for Francis and Mary). The brothers sat very still across from each other, staring intently.

Mary set the game on the table, causing the statue-like brothers to leap into action, tearing into the box with a frightening amount of passion.

“I call the dog!” said Bash.

“I call the horse!” said Francis.

“Um,” said Mary.

Bash had the little Scottish terrier figure clutched in his fist, Francis the statue of the rearing horse. Mary looked at the silver game pieces, moving them around to examine her options. The thimble wasn’t bad. She liked the wheelbarrow, too. And the antique car was actually kind of cool.

She picked the money bag.

Francis eyed the dice. “Who—who’s going to roll first?”

Bash licked his lips. Mary started to wonder whether she should be slightly scared. “Let Mary go first,” he decided.

Mary took the dice and rolled them onto the table. Four and two. She went to move her game piece six spaces.

“Hey!” Bash yelled. “Whoa! What do you think you’re doing?”

Mary wrinkled her brow. “I’m playing Monopoly.”

“You have to wait until all of us roll, Mary,” he told her, exasperated.

“Oh.” Mary moved the money bag back to the  _Go_  tile. “Sorry. I’ve never played Monopoly before.”

Francis gasped. “What.”

She shrugged. “Sorry?”

Francis and Bash exchanged dark looks. Francis rolled next and came up with a four and five. Then Bash, who rolled a three and two and threw himself on the ground in misery.

Mary stared at them, particularly Bash’s unmoving form on the floor by the couch. “So what happens now?”

Francis smiled a bit patronizingly. “Since I rolled the biggest number, I go first. Then you go. Then, um, then Bash goes.” He prodded his brother. “Bash. Bash. Get up.”

He sat up and pulled himself onto the couch, muttering something about shitty dice. And, with that, the game began. The brothers quickly figured out that Mary was absolute shit at Monopoly. Bash used this to his advantage by giving her false advice. Then Francis would feel obligated to point her in the right direction (“Don’t give her  _help_ , Francis! Don’t you want to win? Jesus Christ.”). It really didn’t matter whether Francis gave her help, because she always managed to do something wrong. But she appreciated the gesture.

 

_Even later in the afternoon (about two hours after they started this fateful game)_

Mary smiled sweetly at Francis. “You should buy Pennsylvania Avenue,” she told him.

He gave her a puzzled look. “Why? You own the other two properties.”

She stared at him.

“Oh,” he said. “But why would I—”

Mary leaned over the board and whispered something in his ear. Two tiny spots of pale color tinged his cheeks. Mary kissed him on the lips as she moved back to her seat.

“I want to buy Pennsylvania Avenue,” Francis told Bash, who’d established himself as the banker (“No, Francis, there’s no way I’m letting you be the banker. You’re going to cheat. Remember what happened at Christmas?”).

Bash shook his head. “Dude, what are you doing?”

Francis smiled at Mary. “I’m playing Monopoly, Bash. Just give me the property card.” Francis gave his colorful Monopoly money to Bash, who moodily handed over Pennsylvania Avenue’s property card.

Mary laughed. Actually, it was closer to a cackle. Bash started to wonder whether he should be slightly scared. “My turn,” she said. She took the dice in her hands, but before she rolled them, she turned to Francis. “I’ll give you Baltic Avenue for Pennsylvania.”

“Baltic Avenue? Mary, that’s the worst...”

Mary raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

“ _Oh_ ,” said Francis. “ _Oh_. Yeah. Yeah, sure. Here.” He gave her Pennsylvania Avenue’s property card. She gave him Baltic Avenue’s. Bash’s jaw dropped.

“Francis. Francis. What…Why would you…” Bash stared at Mary, who was requesting six houses from the bank.

Needless to say, Mary was winning.

 

_Even later (about two and a half hours into the game)_

“Come on, come on, come on. Three, three, three, three. Come on.” Mary shook the dice frantically, squeezing her eyes shut and muttering rapid prayers. “ _Three, three, three_. Come on. I need a three. I need a three. Three, three, three, three.”

She threw the dice. Two and two. “ _No_!” She covered her face. “No. Ugh. Fucking  _dice_. I need a  _three_.”

Bash scooped the dice off the table. He shook them slightly, eyeing Mary nervously. She’d gotten pretty loud last time he tried to roll.

“Bash,” Mary said innocently, “do you still want Ventnor? No one’s really landed on it…”

Bash blinked several times. “Yes, Mary, I still want Ventnor. You have the other two, why would I want to give you Ventnor?”

“You wouldn’t  _give_  it to me, Bash. I’m not stupid. We’d make a trade.”

He looked at her warily. “What’s your offer?”

“Don’t do it, Bash!” Francis yelled. He was a bit drunk from all the Hawaiian Punch. His lips were stained bright red, and he had at least two Cheetos stuck in his curls. He was very near bankrupt and falling asleep. “Don’t take the deal!”

“Francis, you’ve literally made about twenty deals with Mary.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I’m going to get my money’s worth,” Francis answered. Mary nodded emphatically, patting his chest.

Bash’s eyebrows shot up, his head swinging as he looked back and forth from them. “Oh my God. _Oh my God._ Have you been trading sex for  _Monopoly_? Francis, how dare you blaspheme this good game!”

Francis shrugged. Bash turned to Mary. “Are you offering sex to me, too?”

“No,” said Mary.

“Damn it, Mary. How do you expect to make a deal, then?”

“I’ll take the trash out for a week.”

Bash pretended to think about it. “Um…no.”

Mary groaned angrily. “Give me Ventnor, and I’ll take the trash out for a week  _and_  I’ll hook you up with one of the girls from work.”

This made Bash pause. “Which one?”

“Um…Elizabeth?”

“No.”

“ _Bash_.”

“I don’t know, Mary. I’m thinking I just want to start rolling.” He picked the dice up, cupping his hands around them and shaking.

“NO!” Mary shouted, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him. “DON’T!”

Bash put down the dice. “I’m listening.”

Mary wrinkled her brow, thinking hard. “Okay, okay…I’ll hook you up with Grace, take out the trash for a week—”

Bash cleared his throat.

“ _Two_  weeks,” she amended. “And I’ll make breakfast for you every Saturday for a month.”

“Make it Emily and you’ve got a deal.”

“Bash, Emily would never go out with you. That’s impossible.”

Bash’s fingers walked themselves to the dice.

“ _Fine_ ,” said Mary. “Emily. Somehow. Now give me Ventnor.”

Bash handed the card to Mary, who happily placed houses on her properties.

“Jesus, Mary. If I knew you’d turn into a raging blackmailer, I don’t think I would’ve told you about Monopoly,” said Francis, who was beginning to get a slight Hawaiian Punch-induced migraine.

Mary only smiled darkly and counted her colorful bills.

 

_About three hours into the game_

Bash threw down his game piece. “I quit,” he said in a tired voice.

Mary lost her triumphant smirk immediately. “What?”

“I quit. This is insane,” Bash answered.

“Yeah,” Francis added. “Monopoly has lost all value to me. I’m out.”

The two brothers stood up (Bash had to steady Francis, who wasn’t too stable on his feet due to the dangerous levels of high fructose corn syrup and red dye in his bloodstream) and walked to their respective bedrooms.

“Hey. Guys. Guys, no. Please. Wait. Where are you—come on, guys. Can’t we just finish the game? We’re so close!” Mary called after them.

“Good night, Mary,” Bash yelled over his shoulder.

Francis mumbled something that could have been “Let’s go to bed,” or “Lyle Lovett’s good.” Honestly, with him in this state, Mary wasn’t sure which one was more likely.

“Guys, seriously. Let’s just finish this game.”

No answer.

“I was  _winning_ ,” Mary complained, eyeing the massive number of her properties and the large stack of five hundred dollar bills. “Cheaters.”

 

_Two weeks after the fateful incident that would be remembered as “That Time We Played Monopoly and Mary Turned Into a Crazy Psycho Who Stopped at Nothing to Win an Overrated Board Game”_

For once, Bash woke up on time to get to his classes, allowing himself enough time to leave the apartment. (“There’s a girl who always comes early. She’s in my Art & the Human Body class. Kenna.  _So hot_.”) Francis, as always, slurped soggy Froot Loops.

“Don’t you want to put more cereal in that?” Mary asked him as she observed his bowl. The ratio of milk to cereal had to have been around 7:1.

Francis guarded his bowl greedily, covering it so that Mary couldn’t add any more cereal. “No,” he said. “I like it when the milk gets colorful.”

“You’re such a kid,” Mary told him, kissing him quickly. She sat next to him, eating handfuls of dry Froot Loops, much to Francis’s dismay and vehement protestations.

As Bash tugged on his coat and headed out the door, Mary said, “Oh, hey, I’m coming home early today. Around three, I think. Want to play Monopoly?”

The answer was immediate. Francis stood up quickly, nearly knocking over his chair in his rush to throw his bowl in the sink and shut himself in the bathroom. As soon as he was inside, he shoved the door closed with a dull  _foomp_. Mary heard the lock click. She looked across the room at Bash. He was out the door in half a second, shutting the door with a lot more force than was necessary. Loud, quick footsteps were heard down the hall.

“Jesus,” Mary muttered. “It’s just Monopoly.”

**Author's Note:**

> idk if i've ever addressed francis's love of froot loops before but whatever you guys get it probably


End file.
